Fever Dreams
by cornergoddess
Summary: Set after House's self-surgery. House has a fever after his surgery and drastic measures eventually have to be taken. TW for child abuse. house/Wilson, house!whump.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I'm back! This is gonna be the story with the ice bath, so TW for child abuse. Also this is set after the self-surgery in case that wasn't clear. Suggestions welcome!**

Wilson looked at his friend through the glass. He was asleep now, but from the speed of his breathing Wilson could tell he was in pain. _I guess that's what cutting into your own leg will do to you, _he thought. His friend's self-destructive tendencies had always been a problem, but he never dreamed it would get this bad. The other night had been a shock. He couldn't believe his phone had been turned off when House had needed him the most. Calling Cuddy must have been a huge blow to his ego.

Wilson opened the door as quietly as possible and sat down in the chair next to the bed, then stood again when he realized House's IV was coming out. Bad veins. He carefully adjusted it, trying and failing not to wake the diagnostician.

House's eyes fluttered open, and the pain hit him like a ton of bricks. He grabbed onto the sides of the bed and fought not to scream.

"It's OK...is the pain bad? Do you need more meds?"

House nodded quickly and Wilson ran for a nurse. House felt a tear slip down his cheek. He didn't need sympathy. He'd done this to himself and it was stupid. He'd done it out of fear, not logic. Logic was the key.

Wilson came back with a nurse that looked like she could be in the seventh grade. Great. She was only redeemed by the fact that she was holding a syringe of clear fluid he took to be morphine. Wilson sat back down as the nurse fumbled with his arm. House lay stiff as a board, trying not to shift even an inch. This was taking an incredibly long time. House looked at Wilson, then at the nurse.

"Need it...now…" he spat at the nurse. She turned red.

"It's OK, Lydia. I can do it. He's a hard stick."

The young nurse nodded and handed the syringe to Wilson, who plunged it deftly into one of House's few good veins. House relaxed a little.

"Better?" Wilson asked. House nodded.

Wilson looked at the drawing taped to the end of the bed and smiled. "Did Rachel make that for you?" he asked, but House was already asleep.

"Where is he?" Chase asked. It had been two hours since the time House usually came in. It wasn't unusual for him to be late, but this was a bit excessive.

"Guess we should just start working," Foreman sighed.

"13-year-old male with chest and neck pain," Cameron presented.

"No prior injuries?" Chase asked.

Just then, Wilson walked in looking disheveled. Or, at least as disheveled as Wilson could look. His tie was slightly crooked and his hair wasn't in it usual coiffed state. "Hey guys," he said. "House isn't coming in today. You'll have to manage on your own."

"He OK?" Foreman inquired.

"He's fine. He had a...uh...fall."

"On his leg?" Cameron asked.

"Yeah, a little. He'll be OK; they're just keeping him for observation."

"Does he want visitors?" Cameron pressed.

"I don't think so. He's a bit embarrassed."

"Okay...well if he needs anything today tell him to call us," Cameron said.

"Thanks, I will. And if you need me make sure you call me."

"Will do," Chase nodded. Wilson's pager beeped and he turned it towards him to look. It was one of House's nurses. He told them to page him if anything was abnormal or if they needed him.

"I gotta go. See you guys later."


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Y'all, please let me know if this is too out of character. I feel as if this chapter and the next one are and I don't want them to be. **

Wilson walked back to House's room and opened the door. The young nurse from earlier was standing by House's bed holding a thermometer. House was starting to stir from his drugged slumber, scrubbing his face with his untethered hand.

"You said to call you if something was wrong…?" Lydia asked tentatively.

"Yes. What's wrong?"

"He has a fever of 100.6."  
Wilson nodded, taking this in. "It could be because of the morphine. Don't give him anymore until it comes back down. Does he have saline?"

Lydia nodded.

"Okay, then it should go down. Thank you for calling me. Let me know if it isn't down in the next two hours or so."

Lydia nodded and smiled shyly at Wilson. "I will, thank you." She turned and left the room, setting the thermometer on the nightstand beside House.

"House? You awake?" Wilson asked. A few hours had passed since he'd been given his last dose of morphine. House nodded.

"Morphine…"

"No more morphine for now. You have a fever. Just try to relax, OK?" Wilson said gently. House's eyes filled with tears.

"Need...morphine...hurts…"

Wilson softened even more. "I know it hurts. It's OK. Just breathe. Is it cramping?"

House shook his head. "Hurts...help…"

"I can't give you any more right now. You're on a Codeine drip. That should help."

A tear ran down House's cheek, and Wilson knew it was bad. His friend was shaking with pain.

"It's OK...you're going to be fine…" Wilson grabbed his friend's hand. "Squeeze my hand, OK? Focus on that."

House squeezed harder than a bedridden man should, and Wilson winced, more from surprise than hurt. House loosened his grip slightly in response.

"It's OK. Doesn't hurt," Wilson reassured. House tightened his grip again.

"You want TV?" Wilson asked.

"Morphine...Wilson...don't care about fever...OW!" House cried, tears rolling down his cheeks. Wilson stared at him, not remembering the last time his friend had cried. House was so focused on the pain he didn't notice.

"Do I need to get someone to take a look at your leg?" Wilson asked.

"NO! Don't touch it!" House growled.

"Okay, I'm not gonna touch it. But the nurse will need to later when the bandages get changed."

"NO!" House yelled, arching up from the bed a little.

"Okay, okay. Nobody's going to touch it right now. Just relax. Why don't I turn on the television? Would that be OK?"

"I said don't turn on the damn television!" House shouted at him, squirming out of his grip. Here came the aggressiveness. House always got like this when he was in pain. Wilson wasn't sure if it was defensiveness or just the need to hurt someone the way he hurt. Either way, it didn't matter. He'd be the punching bag if it meant his friend would stop feeling like this.

"Okay, fine. No TV."

Wilson watched as House squirmed on the bed, changing position in an attempt to alleviate some of the agony he was in. _He shouldn't be this bad, _Wilson thought. He'd had surgery on the leg, sure, but he was on high-dose Codeine and that should be enough. After the morphine booster his body should have had enough of a break that it would relax, but apparently not. Wilson wanted so badly to grab a syringe out of the medicine safe and inject it into one of House's vessels that his hand itched.

Just then, he felt his pocket vibrate. He took out his phone and opened the text.

Lisa Cuddy:"_How is he doing? Checked on him this morning, but he was asleep"_

"_Not good," _he texted back. "_In a lot of pain and can't get morphine booster b/c of slight fever."_

House cried out beside him, trying to muffle it with his pillow. His face was red and his body wracked with tremors. Wilson placed a hand on his arm to ground him. House looked at him.

"Morphine...please...Wilson…'s really bad...not lying…"

"I know you're not lying. I know it hurts." Wilson thought a moment. "Let me get Cuddy to look at you. She can override nurse's orders. That sound OK?"

House nodded quickly. Wilson's fingers tapped on his phone.

"_Come look at him. He needs morphine but can't give it to him b/c of his chart."_

Cuddy texted back almost immediately.

Lisa Cuddy: "_He's not faking?"_

Wilson glared a little and texted back. "_Definitely not. Come quickly." _

Lisa Cuddy: "_Coming"_

"She's coming," Wilson assured House, who was staring up at the ceiling, motionless except for the trembling.


	3. Chapter 3

Cuddy came, although not as quickly as Wilson would have liked.

"Sorry. I was in a meeting," she explained. Wilson nodded.

"House?" Cuddy said, snapping her fingers in front of his blank face. House focused hazily on her.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Morphine…?" he whimpered.

"You're in pain?"

House nodded, adjusting his grip on the sheets.

"Anywhere other than your leg?"

House shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"Hand me that thermometer," Cuddy ordered Wilson. He handed it to her.

"Open your mouth, House."

House did as he was told, and Cuddy stuck the thermometer under his tongue, holding it there until she got a reading. She took his chart and wrote it down.

"This says he was at 101.6 an hour ago?"

Wilson nodded.

"It's up to 102.4. He hasn't had morphine?"

Wilson shook his head. Cuddy sighed.

"House, I need to look at your leg."

"Wait, why?" Wilson asked.

"He could have a postoperative infection. You know that," Cuddy answered.

"Don't…" House whispered.

"I'm sorry, but I have to," Cuddy said in finality, snapping on gloves and walking towards the end of the bed where House's leg lie, elevated and bandaged.

"NO!" House shrieked, squirming away from her.

"House! Buddy, she's going to be gentle! Please sit still and we'll get this over with. I promise it'll be quick," Wilson comforted.

"I think he's delirious," Wilson said to Cuddy. She nodded.

"I don't want to sedate him in case it was that that gave him the fever. Just hold his hand or something I guess."

Wilson nodded and took House's hand. House shrieked again. "NO! DON'T!"

"It's gonna be OK...look at me…" Wilson said, gently tilting House's head away from Cuddy.

House shook his head and turned his head back. "Don't let her...don't...hurts…" he panicked. Wilson couldn't bear to see his friend this way.

"Do you really have to…?" he asked Cuddy, knowing the answer.

"You know I have to, James. Just try and calm him down please. I'll be quick."

Wilson turned back to House. "Um...hey, remember that time we went golfing and that alligator just climbed out of the water onto the course? And then Steve-remember Steve?-hit him with the ball?"

House wasn't listening, and Cuddy was already undoing the bandages. He screamed and grabbed Wilson's hand hard.

"Don't...TOUCH!" he shouted desperately. Cuddy ignored him, focusing on peeling off the bandages. House screamed, then kept screaming. Wilson rubbed his arm and shoulder, but it didn't help. House was completely freaking out, either from pain or delirium. Wilson guessed it was a bit of both. He thrashed in the bed, knocking off the scissors Cuddy had used to cut the bandages. Cuddy moved away from the bed a little, pressing the call button. She waited.

"What?" Wilson asked, trying to soothe House.

"Restraints. I can't do this if he's moving around. It's more painful for both him and me."

Wilson sighed. "He's just going to panic more. You know that right?"

"I know. I just can't think of another way to do this. I need to take a look."

"Okay...I know."

Wilson waited for a few minutes, watching his friend writhe in agony. These were the times he wished he had let the surgeon chop it off. None of this ever would have happened.

Nurses filed in and held House's arms and legs down, wrestling with the restraints. House screamed and screamed.

"WILSON!" he yelled.

"It's OK…" Wilson attempted, but it was no use. The nurses filed out, and Cuddy put on a new pair of gloves, getting back to work as if nothing had happened. House sobbed, having given up pleading.

"I have to go," Wilson said, rushing out.


	4. Chapter 4

Wilson ran into the nearest empty exam room and locked himself inside. He sat on the examination table and set his head in his hands. His shoulders shook and tears ran down his face. He didn't know why he was crying. He didn't understand why he felt so much guilt. It hadn't ultimately been his decision to excise the muscle; it had been Stacey's. Sure, he'd advised her, but he hadn't signed the papers; hadn't given the consent. So why was he so upset?

A few minutes later, Wilson felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked up.

"Hey. Are you OK?" Cuddy asked. Wilson nodded.

"His leg is swollen and there's some redness around the incision. It wasn't the morphine. I gave him another dose, put antibiotics on the incision, and started a broad-spectrum drip. His fever should hopefully go down soon. Do you want to see him?"

Wilson nodded and allowed himself to be escorted back to House's room. His friend's eyes were closed. Wilson sat back down in the chair he had previously vacated. He noticed gratefully that the restraints were undone.

He sat there for awhile, even switched on the TV, before House opened his eyes. He seemed subdued, and his usually sharp blue eyes were softened.

"Hey...you awake?"

House nodded slightly.

"How are you doing?"

_How am I doing? I was just manhandled by Cuddy and you sat there and watched, _House thought. The details were fuzzy, but he knew the gist of what had happened. He wanted to tell Wilson this, but all that came out of his mouth was a pathetic whimper. His leg hurt, burned. He had morphine now, but it wasn't helping enough. He needed more.

"House?" Wilson prompted, snapping him out of his thoughts.

"Hm?"

"I said, how are you feeling?"

"'M fine…" he managed to whisper. He didn't want to tell the truth, didn't want to be restrained again. He couldn't take any more vulnerability on his part. That was Wilson's job.

"I'm gonna take your temperature, OK?"

"Want me to turn over?" House joked weakly. Wilson rolled his eyes and stuck the thermometer in his mouth. House stared at the ceiling, watching spots dance on his vision. He tried not to focus on the pain radiating up and down his leg.

Wilson took out the thermometer and recorded House's temperature on his chart. It wasn't going down. 103.5 now. Wilson frowned.

Suddenly, House felt a wave of nausea and gestured for the bedpan. Wilson got it quickly and held it by his friend's mouth. Bile dripped from House's lips as his stomach heaved. Finally, it was over and he turned his eyes back to the ceiling. Wilson disposed of the bedpan.

"Feel better now?" Wilson asked. House nodded even though he didn't. He stared at the ceiling for a moment, then squeezed his eyes shut. His leg felt like it was on fire, and the flames were building.

"Morphine...up…" he whimpered. Wilson checked the machine and turned the dial a few notches.

"I would give you the pump but there's a warning on your chart not to. What did you do?"

"After surgery...hit it too many times...lost track...I know the code…"

Wilson nodded. "Do you want me to leave you alone?"

House shook his head.

"Okay. You sure you don't want TV?"

House nodded.

"Okay."

Wilson sat back down in the chair and twiddled his thumbs while House lay stiffly with his eyes shut.


End file.
